Family Obligations: The Discovery
by HowlynMad
Summary: Follows TDK canon but with one alteration, Bruce had a brother that died in infancy... or so he thought... **This couldn't be right. But DNA doesn't lie. Three years he'd been looking for his baby brother and now it seemed that his sibling had come to him... And nothing would ever be the same.** Not a TDK retread, begins right after TDK ends.
1. Chapter 1

DISCOVERY

ONE

The last week had been the most difficult of his life and that was saying a lot. It wasn't just the violence and hysteria that was sweeping the city, all courtesy of the Joker. That was bad enough. No, this ran much deeper.

Bruce held the document in his trembling hands. His whole world was balanced precariously on the outcome of a few strands of DNA. If the tests were negative then nothing changed. He would hunt the Joker down and make sure that he was put into a hole he could never crawl out of. But if the tests were positive… if what he suspected was true, then everything was about to change. His whole world was about to sink deeper into hell. So deep, he wouldn't be able to find his way back. He looked over to where Alfred stood, trying to look stalwart, but for once failing. The man was as nervous as he was.

"No use dragging this out, I guess." He took a deep breath and tore into the large envelope. Bruce scanned the documents quickly until he came across one particular line, *_One hundred percent probability*. _The typeface seemed to scream at him._ *Correlation indicates a sibling match_*His mind went blank and his eyes watered. He released a gasp and sat back against the arm of the sofa.

"Master Bruce…"

He held up his hand to stay his friend. There was no solace for this. Bruce put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat in an effort to get his careening emotions under control. He had prepared for this possible outcome. "I need you to get the final security measures in place, Alfred. Don't worry about the peripherals, we just need to make sure he's contained."

"Understood," Alfred intoned evenly. "Sir, I have to ask. Are you sure? Once he knows who you are… there won't be any going back."

"It doesn't matter, Alfred. I've… I've thought about this. He's family, my…" Bruce swallowed the huge lump in his throat, "My brother. If I have to spend the rest of my life taking care of him, trying to make him rational, then that's what I'm going to do."

"Somehow, I don't think he will appreciate the familial connection."

"That doesn't matter either. He has to be stopped. I can't allow him to continue to hurt people. He needs help, rather he wants it or not. I'm his family that makes him my responsibility. I'm going to do this."

"How will you find him?"

"That's a good question." Bruce sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "The news said the police had him cornered last night and that he was injured in the fray, maybe badly. If he's hurt, it'll slow him down. I'll see what Gordon has and with any luck, I'll get to him before the police do."

"If he's injured… and cornered, it will also make him more dangerous."

"Another reason I need to get to him and quickly. If he thinks they're closing in, he might decide to see how many people he can take with him and given what he's capable of, I don't want to see how that will turn out."

Alfred frowned. "Given how he's kept everyone running in circles for weeks, I'm more than a little apprehensive about the odds of his capture being bloodless."

"I'm going to get word to Gordon now. I'll gather as much intel as I can. As soon as it's dark, I'm out there in the streets and I'm not coming back until I have him."

TWO

The air was chill and damp. But what could you expect from an abandoned building? The Joker was huddled in the corner, his purple coat draped over him like a blanket. He was miserable and he was pissed off. He pulled his coat tighter trying to find a more comfortable position in which to sleep.

His right side had finally stopped bleeding but it ached like a bitch and his head felt like it was full of cotton and ice. He had a nasty goose egg on his temple from the fall he took into the dumpster. The way his vision was blurring in and out, it was a good guess that he had a concussion.

"Worl-duh class accom..o..dations," he commented to himself.

His gang had scattered to the four winds after the incident with the ferries. Apparently, committing the mass murder of several thousand people was a little too much even for the criminal element in Gotham. They just didn't get it. It didn't matter who lived or who died. It was all pointless. Everyone was on borrowed time. The Joker sniffled. He hoped he wasn't catching cold. Now he would have to start his game over. It wouldn't be that hard but it would be time consuming.

People were basically greedy, ignorant sheep so all he needed to do was throw around enough money and he'd have everything he required. What he couldn't buy in manpower, he could manipulate, which in the end would probably work out better anyway. Criminals couldn't be trusted not to cut and run at the first sign of trouble. Mental patients, on the other hand, turned out to be a goldmine. Find the key to their psychosis and you could make them do anything you wanted.

The Joker wiggled around some more, which only made his side start to hurt in earnest. It was too damn cold to sleep anyway. Leaning against the wall for support, he wobbled to his feet. His shirt was soaked with blood. He most likely needed stitches and a tetanus shot, he considered. But that wouldn't happen. He would probably just use some duct tape to hold the wound together and germs be damned.

Pressing his side, he slowly walked over to the broken window and looked out Gotham. The sun was high in the sky now, it wouldn't be too much longer. If the citizens of Gotham thought they were safe because the cops had him on the run, they should think again. It would be a cold day in hell when the Gotham PD could bring him down. The Joker cocked his head. "A cold day in hell," he giggled. "That it is, that.. it.. is," Joker intoned.

He wasn't worried. He never worried. A few days rest and he would be back on his game. Then the real fun could begin. "You haven't seen anything yet," he murmured. His crooked smile stretched, "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, how I won.. derrr what you're at."

Bruce entered the last of the information that Gordon had provided into the massive computer system in the cave. It would give him a starting point. While computers were an invaluable tool for crime fighting, in the end, they were only machines. They presented facts and data. It was how the data was interpreted that could make or break a case, that could bring a criminal to justice or in this instance to his own personal prison.

He really hadn't had time to think through the long term logistics of what he was planning. Did he really intend to keep the Joker locked up on the estate for the rest of his life? Would he even be able to, if it came down to that? The Joker would certainly not make it easy.

He'd already made a few inquiries into the psychiatric community to find the most likely candidate to become his brother's doctor. The man needed some serious help. Whatever had happened to him in the past had created a monster. Bruce only hoped there was still a man left inside that could be reached. He didn't have a lot of hope that such a severe psychosis could be addressed with any success but it wasn't his field of expertise.

He also hadn't put much thought into how he would personally deal with the Joker, with his brother. Frankly, he was terrified. When he had found out that his brother was still alive, he'd been ecstatic. His baby brother was alive! All he'd ever wanted was to have his family back, and now he could, at least part of it. Then to find out that his "family" was one and the same with the sadistic, murdering, freak he had been hunting was enough to shatter even _his_ faith in humanity.

But there was much more to this story. The Joker coming here to Gotham was fortuitous... and suspicious. Bruce had wondered if it were possible that it had been a set-up, that the Joker knew all along who he was dealing with, but in the end, he had discarded that theory.

In the few weeks he had studied his nemesis, Bruce learned enough to know that if the Joker had come to Gotham to get revenge on him, as his brother, the attacks would have been far more specific, far more personal. No, the Joker had no idea that he was a Wayne. It still left the mystery as to where his brother had been all this time and what had happened to him.

Rather or not he knew Batman's identity was still up for debate. The Joker had terrifying insight and coupled with an obviously keen mind, he had rapidly been putting the pieces together, that was clear from their conversation at the MCU. He seemed to find patterns that most people couldn't see, that kind of intelligence made him even more dangerous.

Bruce leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. The Joker had almost beaten him. He wasn't just talking about the crime spree either. He had broken Harvey, nearly killed Gordon… and nearly… wrecked him. Denying that, would only be more ammunition for the Joker to use against him. He needed to own up to his part in what had happened. The lengths that he had been willing to go, just like the Joker said he would. He hadn't realized until he took a step back, how far he'd fallen.

Had he not found out that the clown was really his brother, would he have killed him? Would he have gone that far? Bruce put his head in his hands. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to find out. He had a new purpose now.

Now he didn't have to just be Batman, dealing with the scum of the city night after night. He could also be Bruce Wayne, brother to a man that needed his help. He had part of his family back, a part of his soul back. It wasn't going to be easy. He didn't have any illusions. The Joker would try to destroy him, confined or not. But with time and treatment, there was a chance that they could forge some kind of bond. That he could call the Joker "brother" and mean it.


	2. Part 2

THREE

The Joker awoke with a slight start. He hadn't even realized that he'd dozed off. That wouldn't do, how embarrassing to be pinched because you fell asleep, it was worse than being caught with your pants around your ankles.

He shook his head lightly and instantly regretted it when the room started to spin. "Jesus Christ." Joker bent his head down between his knees attempting to stop the nausea that was threatening to make its presence known. But, of course, the minute his head was down, the blood rushed to his wounded temple and his headache returned with a vengeance.

"Fuck this," he exclaimed. The invective only served to increase the throbbing. Putting his head back against the wall, he took deep, shuddering breaths. The more Joker thought about being hurt, the angrier he became. He really wanted to blow something up. Something big. Something preferably that belonged to the Gotham PD.

He still had a stash or two of explosives that the authorities hadn't found yet. It would just be a matter of getting to them. The police had thrown a net over the city, like that would stop him. How dense were these cops? He'd walked into MCU and walked out with their prized prisoner, leveling the building in the process. They were out of their league. There was only one adversary that was really worthy and oh, so, fun to play with.

Would the Bat come out to play? Joker wondered. He'd gone to ground after taking the heat for what Harvey had done. How pathetic was that? After all his sermonizing, the Bat had cheated. Joker had been fairly surprised by that, he had misjudged the man's level of commitment to his cause. The Bat had given up everything to his principle. He'd won the game fair and square then Gotham's self-appointed savior goes and does something selfless and stupid. He'd have to make sure that the Bat paid for that little slight.

Joker closed his eyes. He knew he was close to figuring it out. The Bat was smart but then again, so was he. He was hiding in plain sight, wearing a mask in the light of day only letting the Bat come out to play at night. He licked his lips. Rachel Dawes was the key. The incident at Harvey's party proved it. She was personal. She meant something to him. His tongue made another pass around his lips.

Events had proven that Harvey wasn't the Bat. He'd actually discarded the idea that it was Harvey long before the climax of their game was reached. The DA unraveled much too soon and too easily. Still, he'd come close to breaking the Bat's resolve, he knew. If he could have had another week, the outcome on the tower would have been much different.

Joker knew this would cost him. He had whipped the populace into a frenzy, pushed and pushed, waiting for the eventual collapse... he had been so close. But the Bat had put him on the defensive and now all those boiling emotions were threatening to cool to a simmer. People had time to think instead of just react. He needed to go back on the offensive as soon as possible, while passions were still raw.

Joker glanced up at the waning light through the window. "Time's a wastin'" he smiled within his smile and pushed himself up. He brushed at his clothes, straightening and smoothing what he could. His shirt stuck to his skin where blood had dried but at least the wound wasn't still oozing. He ran his hand across his hair attempting to tame some of the bloody, tangled mass then reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of red lipstick. "It pays to look your best," he reminded himself, tracing the outline of scarred flesh around his mouth. "There," he announced and pulled his silver plated autos from their holsters under each arm. "Show time."

This was the third building in the grid that he had searched. It was on the outer most parameter of what he believed an injured man could reach on foot. The police, of course, had already searched the area but the Joker would have easily evaded their tactics. They assumed he had fled in a vehicle and was on the run. Bruce knew better.

The Joker only ran if it suited him to run. He didn't fear anyone or anything. And right now, he would be looking for a little pay back. They had hurt him. While any sane person would lay low, the Joker would do the opposite. He would come out guns blazing or... bombs exploding. He needed to get to him quickly before the clown had a chance to set anything in motion.

The crumbling old structure had once been a thriving shipping business. When jobs had been farmed out overseas the company had abandoned the building and let it rot. Bruce tuned his binoculars until he could see every detail of the decaying edifice. He concentrated on the top floors, knowing that the Joker would want to see what or who was coming at him. Scanning the broken and boarded windows, he stopped up short on the third floor when he caught movement.

"Damn it," he muttered. There were two punk kids inside drinking beers and being stupid. It was a recipe for disaster if the Joker was in there. And something in his gut told him that it was exactly where the clown was hiding.

Joker hummed a jaunty tune as he sauntered somewhat unsteadily down the corridor. The rest had done him some good after all. He didn't feel quite as shitty as he had earlier. It would make things a lot easier. He would head over to where he kept a hefty stash of explosives, steal himself a car, and have a little party. Nothing too flashy, just something to remind everyone that they weren't in control. That chaos could and would make itself known, well, whenever he damn well pleased.

Voices up ahead brought him out of his reverie, "I don't re..mem..ber inviting any guests over," he considered. A young man, not much more than a kid stumbled into the corridor from one of the offices. Joker sidestepped into a doorway, his finger brushed lightly over the trigger of his Glock. He leaned his head around the sill.

"Come on, Caleb. Let's see if we can score some weed."

Another lanky, teen-aged youth joined the first, "You got any cash? I'm flat busted until the next support check shows."

"Well, that's unfortunate... isn't it," Joker stepped from the doorway. His head was down and his eyes were deadly. "I mean what's a guy to do when the state doesn't pony up?"

The youth's cocky stance instantly went from brash threat to startled uncertainty. They looked one from the other, neither sure what to do. "Oh man, you're the Joker!"

"No way, that can't be him!" the other, Caleb, chimed in.

"Man, look at the scars, there's no way you can fake that!"

Joker rolled his eyes, "Such a clever boy." In truth, he wasn't that much older than these two low-life punks, not even ten years his guess, but he had never been that naïve... that stupid. It was just annoying. Any patience he might have had for their youthful ignorance was lost to the throbbing in his head. His fingers flexed around the grip of his Glock. "You wouldn't, by chance, have a vehicle out front would you?"

"No man, sorry. We hoofed it over here." They were still looking to each other for courage, the situation well out of their comfort zone of bullying tourists and assaulting old ladies for their purses. Caleb decided to try for tough, "So man, what are you doing here, Joker?"

Joker cocked his head and smiled unpleasantly, "Oh, you know, man," he mocked, "Right now, I'm dee..ciding which one of you to kill first... man."

Caleb laughed nervously.

"What's so funny, dead-boy?" Joker rumbled.

"Caleb man, I don't think he's kiddin' around," the kid's eyes had gone wide with fear.

The Joker slowly raised his Glock, straight-armed in front of him, "I never kid around." He pulled the hammer back and brushed the trigger.

A high pitched whistle split the air and something coiled around the Joker's hand like a vice. His arm was jerked to the left and the gun went off with a sharp crack. His arm was yanked back to the right with force, the weapon wretched from his grasp.

In less than an instant, Joker had pulled the Glock's twin from its dual holster and swung around, firing into the dim twilight of the hall. Plaster exploded as the hollow point load sprayed the corridor. Both youths dove to the floor, cringing and cowering.

Joker laughed in delight, "Bats! I was beginning to wonder if you care..duh." Joker swung around again. The Bat was sneaky, if there was a way for him to move around behind him, he would find it. "Better run on home, boys," he instructed the youths. "This is about to get... interesting."

Both teenagers jumped to their feet as one and tore down the corridor as if the devil himself was on their heels. Joker grinned wickedly and aimed his weapon at their fleeing backs. A loud noise in the room to his right made him pause. "Oh, all right Bats, no need to get impatient. I'm coming."

The Joker pressed himself against the wall and snuck a peek into the nearest office. The room was wide open and empty. He glanced upwards just in case the bat-brain tried to drop in on him from the ceiling. Nothing.

With over-exaggerated motion the Joker tip-toed to the next doorway. A skittering sound caught his attention and he casually strolled into the room. It was another large office space that held what was left of some old desks, chairs, and other miscellaneous junk.

A flash of shadow moved in the corner of his eye. The Joker swung his semi-auto in the general direction of the motion and held the trigger down. Hollow-point load sprayed the room. Boxes exploded on impact. Furniture splintered and glass shattered into cutting rain. The clown faced man started to giggle. He couldn't help it. There was just something about wanton destruction that tickled him to no end.

Joker cocked his head and squinted into the gloom, "Come out, come out, wherever you are.. unless, of course, you're dea..duh in which case you're excused. How about a moan? Death rattle?" Joker swung his weapon left and then right. But there was nothing. He hadn't imagined it. He had finely tuned senses, they had saved his ass more than once. He wasn't alone.

A sly little grin danced over his lips, "Come on Batsy I know you're in here. Hide and seek? I lovvee games. Want to know what my favorite is? Come on, just guess. Bet you can't!" The Joker swung around taking careful note of the large support pillars spaced out across the room.

"You remember mumbley-peg?" He fired a few rounds at the nearest support then stuck his head around its girth to again find nothing.

"I used to love that game as a kid-uh. Of course, I never really bought into the whole idea that you were supposed to MISS your opponent." Joker made an abrupt about-face and headed in the opposite direction, guns at ready. "And look at me now, I'm still sticking knives in people... and it's still just as fun."

He glanced upwards and scanned the exposed ceiling above. Most of the panels had long since been removed or destroyed. However, the struts were still in place. A clever bat could always find a place to hang from. "So what's your story, Bats? One ba..duh day?" The silence was his only response.

He paused, turning around in a circle. "I never got to finish my story. You know how I got these scarrrs on my face? Hmm? No?"

Joker sauntered over to a pillar and leaned against it. "My old man left my mom with two kids and no money. We lived poor, but it was ok. We had each other and we managed," he offered conversationally. "I was twelve the first time one of the local gangs tried to recruit me. But I stood strong, I refused to give in to them. Didn't make me very popular."

"One night, I was coming home and I saw this gang member shoot another kid in the face. Neither kid was more than fifteen. Unfortunately, when I saw them... they saw me. I tried to tell them I wouldn't squeal but they had to be sure. They had to make an example of me, you see." The Joker made a slicing motion across his mouth. "They wanted to make sure I'd keep my mouth shut... so they sliced it wi-duh open."

A darker shadow flitted high across the ceiling and the Joker followed its progress with an interested eye. "That was the catalyst. It opened my eyes to reality. What open..eduh your eyes? What finally let you see the truth, Batsy?"

He sighed lightly. This was getting tedious. "I know, no matter how much I might want our game to go on forever, it's just too good to last. Goo-duh things never do. It will be my honor to kill you, if that's what you really want."

Joker aimed high at a section of ceiling where most of the panels were still in place. "Maybe you think you'll win this little game of ours." The Joker's tone turned philosophical, "You may be right. It could happen, after all, we're well matched, you and I. You could kill me. But it wouldn't matter. Either way... I win."

"Let's play," he hissed and fired into the ceiling panels. Pieces of backer board and drywall rained down all around the clown. Joker ignored the potentially lethal barrage and continued firing upwards, his laughter echoed in the expansive space.

Something large and black tumbled towards him in a cloud of dust. He dove sideways in an attempt to keep from being flattened but was too slow. Something brushed by his shoulder jerking him off his feet. He crashed to the floor in a heap, his wounded side reopened, his unfocused head now spinning. He scrambled to his knees, one gun still firmly in hand the other laying just out of reach. His vision blurred but his arm was steady as he pointed his weapon one way then the other.

Using one of the concrete pillars to steady himself, he came to his feet. Bracing his back against it, he chortled, "I know I nailed you a couple of times. Your armor probably took most of the damage but it's gotta hurt like a bitch. Tell you what Batsy, if you want to play mano a mano, you take off the armor and I'll put down the gun. Whadya say? You know, I like to play with knives the best."

A soft shuffling sound caught the clown's attention and he wheeled to the left, firing three rounds. Then there was a click. Empty. Well, that was inconvenient. He didn't have a spare clip. His holstered the weapon and retrieved its twin. If he had counted right, he had six shots left. Then he would be totally screwed.

Bats had made it clear that he didn't play fair, taking the rap for what Harvey had done, was flat out cheating. What kind of _superhero_ cheated? Of course, the fact that the do-gooders had, in the end, been brought down to his level just proved his point. But if the masses didn't know that then it hardly mattered. He didn't know rather to be ecstatic that he had been right all along or pissed off that they had taken his victory from him.

The Joker sighed. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. His side was throbbing. One well-placed hit and he would be down for the count. They'd already tried to lock him up in the loony bin once, he wasn't looking for a repeated attempt. "Come on, Bats, you came here to dance so let's just get down to it."

"I don't want to fight you, a voice called out." it's normal growling edge gone. "Put down your weapon."

Joker raised an eyebrow, "You don't want to fight?" He giggled. Right. "You just came for a chat or maybe you want to have a beer?" He turned around in a circle trying to ascertain where the voice had originated.

"As a matter of fact... I do want to talk to you. But I don't suppose you'll make this easy."

A sly little grin danced over his lips, "You want to talk? To little ole me? All right." Joker slipped the gun back into its holster. "So what do you want to talk about?" His eyes never stopped moving as he scanned the room. "I don't suppose we have much time. Those little pukes that you let get away will be spilling their beans by now." He turned one way then the other.

"You're right. This isn't the best place to talk. I propose we take this elsewhere." A shadow moved to his left and the Joker spun around to come face to face with the Bat.

Bruce stood no more than thirty feet away from his brother. He didn't know what he should feel but all he could think was that this was the Joker. The personification of evil and chaos. But that wasn't really true. There was a man beneath the war paint, just like there was a man beneath the mask. He finally realized it when he found out that his brother might still be alive. Now the Joker needed to find his own reason for bringing that man back to life.

"Well, well, well, looky what we have here. A big rat of a bat." The clown crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Bruce was instantly on the alert. "Put your hands down at your sides where I can see them," he ordered. Bruce took a step closer and raised his hands in front of himself. "It's no trick. I want to talk to you. My vehicle isn't too far from here. Lay down your weapons and we'll go now."

The Joker cocked his head like a bird. It was hard to tell with the make-up but Bruce got the impression he was confused by the change of attitude.

"Why Batsy, are you asking me to come away with you? That's so special," the Joker smirked.

"I'm not going to tell you again. Arms down to your sides." Bruce tensed.

"Or what?" the Joker's eyes held a dangerous glint.

"We don't have time for this macho bullshit. This place will be crawling with Gotham PD anytime now. Come with me. I'll take you somewhere where I can explain everything. You need to understand."

The Joker was still staring at him intently, his head pitched to the left. "Is that what I need to do?" he nodded. "Huh, how about a counter offer?" The Joker quick drew the loaded Glock with his right hand at the same time a knife slipping into his left.

Bruce managed to avoid the blade flying unerringly right at his face but dodging bullets was another matter entirely. He was hit twice in the upper chest as he dove to the left. Rolling away from the Joker, he activated the device on his arm and landed in a half crouch now facing his enemy, his brother.

The steel mesh sang through the air hitting the Joker in his mid-section. Bullseye. The net jerked the gun from his hand and it clattered to the floor as wire wove tightly around his body. The tendrils expanded, wrapping around and around, until the Joker tottered on his now tightly bound legs. He hopped slightly away from the advancing black figure before crashing over like a felled tree.

"What the fuck!?" He struggled against the restraints, writhing to and fro trying to find any slack. Bruce knew he wouldn't find any escape. He'd made damn sure that this would incapacitate on first contact. Walking slowly towards the Joker, he looked around him, paranoid that there might yet be something the criminal clown had waiting in the shadows.

The bound man looked up at him. His smiling face was full of fury. "You're not playing fair! You think this is over?" he screamed. "Nothing is over, not until one of us.. is dead. So take your best-shot, Bats. Do it. Do it!" He started to laugh, his voice rising and falling maniacally, "Make it hurt so good!"

Bruce cringed at the thought that this sick, twisted individual was his baby brother. This was the man he had spent the last three years scouring the world for, his family. Blood didn't lie.

What should he do?

The Joker was at his mercy at last. All the death and destruction he was responsible for, the pain and evil he had perpetrated... how could he just ignore that? Insane or not, his actions were nothing less than malevolent. The man was everything that he fought against, in his life and in his soul. He couldn't be allowed to do any more damage.

The Joker's mirth died down to a few giggles and stared back at him. "So what's it gonna be, Bats? Huh? Gonna drrink my blood? Come on, you're, you're, so close now! It's all been leading up to this moment. You're almost there. Go on.. Do it.. Murrder me."

And all the pieces fell into place. He would end it all right, just not in the way the Joker wanted. "You're right, this has to end.. now."

If it was at all possible the Joker's smile seemed to get even bigger and he shouted, "I win!"

"Not quite," Bruce responded with a grin of his own. The Joker's smile within a smile faltered. He looked confused by the change of tone. Bruce leaned over the Joker grabbing him by the purple lapels and clouted him squarely on the jaw, once then twice for good measure. His head whipped back and went slack.

"I've been waiting to meet you for a long time. For many reasons that you don't even know about.. yet. But see you're wrong about one thing. This isn't the end, it's only the beginning. And I plan on winning this game of yours.. for both our sakes."


	3. Part 3

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The tumbler's roar echoed off the cave walls as it settled into its parking spot beside the waterfall. Bruce leaned back in his seat, his nerves were shot and his mind was numb. He'd done it. Bruce looked over to where the Joker was slouched forward in the passenger seat. The seatbelt was the only thing holding him upright.

After noting his injuries, Bruce hadn't wanted to use the sedation but the clown hadn't given him much choice. He started to wake during the ride home and Christ, just how many knives _did_ he have? Though, it was hardly surprising that he wasn't about to come quietly. If they had continued to fight, the Joker might well have been really injured. He'd just found his brother, he wasn't about to lose him.

Going around to the passenger side, Bruce pulled the Joker from the tumbler and slung him over his shoulder. "Alfred!" he called out. Bruce carried him to the lab area of the cave where he had set up a triage area for taking care of his own many injuries. Bruce laid the Joker out carefully on the exam table.

"Sir! I take it you..." Alfred stopped up short when he saw the figure lying on the table.

"He's pretty badly injured, looks like he's lost quite a bit of blood. His eyes were dilated too. I think he's got a concussion. I had to use the sedation. He didn't give me a choice."

"It should be alright. Let's take a look shall we?" Alfred went into professional mode.

Bruce nodded but his mind was still whirling in circles. He'd captured the Joker, his brother, and now he was here. As if his life wasn't dangerous and complicated enough it was about to get really weird. *_We're all mad here_* "What do you need from me?"

Alfred had removed the Joker's coat and was unbuttoning his shirt. "Would you mind bringing over the medical tray? And please, thread some sutures, I'm sure he's going to need them."

Bruce went over to the supply cabinet and started loading up needles, sutures, bandages, antiseptic, and anything else he could think of. A sharp gasp caused him to almost drop the tray. He swung around prepared for a fight and found Alfred just staring down at the Joker, shock clearly etched on his features.

"Alfred, what is it?"

Alfred shook his head and Bruce followed his line of sight to the Joker's exposed torso. His flesh was a roadmap of pain. His chest and arms were covered in scars. Light scars and darkened scars, severe, and barely noticeable, they covered his skin.

"My god."

"I seriously doubt god had anything to do with this, Master Bruce."

"You think he did that to himself?"

Alfred moved around the prone man and gently rolled him onto his side. His eyes closed briefly then opened, "I don't know about the ones on his chest and arms but he certainly didn't do all this."

Bruce came around to find that the Joker's back was also covered in criss-crossed lines and healed wounds.

"Those marks are lashes. I've seen wounds like them before." Alfred motioned, "Those are burns. The others look like slices and cuts from a sharp implement. Possibly a knife."

Bruce was horrified. Had someone done this to his brother? And if so, is that what drove him to insanity? Or was what he was seeing only a symptom of a psychosis that was already there? "We need to treat his injuries. There's nothing that can be done about the rest of it."

Alfred nodded in understanding. He began cleaning out the wound in the Joker's side with antiseptic.

"I can take care of stitching him up. Why don't you take a look at his head. I'm worried about concussion."

"Of course." Alfred maneuvered in front of the Joker's face, pulled back his eyelids and flashed a small light in each eye. They were equally reactive but both were more dilated than they should be, could be from injury. It could also be from something else, like drugs. That could explain a lot. He could see a knot on the man's temple at the hairline but he couldn't tell how bad it was with all the clown make-up smeared over his face and head.

Alfred grabbed a bottle of mineral oil and began to clear away the black and white greasepaint carefully. The area around the wound was badly bruised and there was a long but shallow cut that disappeared into his hair. It wouldn't need stitches, Alfred quickly diagnosed.

He continued to clean away the make-up until the man's face was completely exposed. Alfred looked at the young, familiar features and a great sadness welled up inside him. He couldn't really sympathize with the monster that had brought such devastation to their lives but he could feel compassion for the lost child that was taken from his family. And he could feel the pain that Bruce felt for all the could-have been(s). Who would Bruce be right now, if his brother had been there all his life? Who would the Joker be? It was all just too heartbreaking to contemplate.

Alfred walked over to the small sink and rinsed out a towel with warm water. He filled a bowl and brought it back and began to wash the blood and green out of the matted hair. The color was surprisingly stubborn to remove but the water eventually revealed wisps of deep golden hue here and there. Once the still greenish hair was as clean as he was able to get it, Alfred took the warm, moist, towel and wiped away the last traces of the greasepaint that clung to the curves of the Joker's face.

The man would be quite handsome, but for the disfiguring scars that twisted his mouth into a ghoulish rictus. But that was nothing compared to the twisted soul that lay beneath those features, Alfred reminded himself. He couldn't allow himself to think of the Joker as family, not ever. Master Bruce had already accepted it and rather or not he could see it, that acceptance made him vulnerable.

The Joker would exploit whatever avenues he could find. One of them had to maintain distance.*_Some men aren't looking for anything logical, they can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with, some men just want to watch the world burn_* His assessment of the Joker hadn't changed from learning his real identity. In fact, it only made the situation worse in his opinion.

He'd worked for the Wayne family his whole life. He'd known them intimately as friends and allies, they were highly intelligent, dynamic, strong willed, individuals that let nothing stand in their way. They were the kind of men and women that built empires. In days past, they would have been the Michelangelo(s) and Caesar(s)of their time. Up until the Joker, he had thought those qualities to be positive ones. But now, he could see how those traits, when perverted, could create a monster of epic proportion.

"What do you think?" Bruce had come to stand next to him.

"About the situation as a whole or just the concussion?"

"I don't think I can handle commentary on the situation right now, Alfred."

Alfred understood. He might not like it but he understood. "The concussion is fairly mild. He just needs rest and a chance to recuperate. We might also want to give him antibiotics for the wound to his side. Infection is the only thing we need worry about... as far as his injuries go."

"We'll have to keep him down here until the modifications are finished on the west wing. Once I'm sure it's secure, I'll move him up there myself."

"And then?"

Bruce shook his head a sad smile on his face, "I wish, I knew. I think I've found a physician, a psychiatrist that might be able to help. He's worked on some extreme cases."

"Can he be trusted?"

"Seems so, but you never know until the secret's out. I'll do whatever needs to be done to get him the help he needs."

"You'll need your secrecy intact if you mean to help him. The authorities will throw him into the dungeons of Arkham... and you along with him if your identities are made public."

"I know."

"Has it occurred to you that the Joker might do exactly that, if only to spite you?"

"It has. I can't even imagine what his response to all this will be. But there isn't a choice." Bruce hesitantly reached out and touched his brother's arm. He needed to feel that connection and it wasn't likely that he'd get a positive response when the Joker was awake. "Is it strange of me to feel anything other than revulsion? It's not just DNA that makes family, I know that. After everything he's done, I should hate him... shouldn't I?"

"Knowing who he is, that he was taken from your family," Alfred gestured to the scars, "That something horrific happened to him, it can't help but change your perception of him. You're seeing beneath his mask, so to speak."

"What if what's beneath the mask is even worse?" Bruce questioned more to himself than to Alfred.

What indeed, Alfred thought. "We cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I don't want you to feel obligated to this course of action, Alfred. I'd understand if you don't want to be involved."

"The Wayne's are my family, Master Bruce. You're my family. Whatever you decide, I'll be here. I may give you an earful or two if I don't agree with something, but that's hardly anything new." Alfred gave Bruce a small comforting smile.

"Thank you, my friend."

A small moan stopped all conversation. They both looked to the prone figure on the table. "We need to finish this up and get him secured."

"He should be unconscious for another couple of hours at least." Alfred stated. "The sedative is potent."

"I wouldn't count on anything when it comes to the Joker. The same logic doesn't apply." Bruce openly stared at the now revealed features.

"Agreed," Alfred acknowledged. "I'll get him some clean clothes to wear and then we can move him into the... accommodations you prepared."

"Sounds good." Bruce studied the face of the man that until a few days ago had inspired nothing but revulsion and hate, the monster that had brought fear, devastation and pain to all of Gotham... his brother.


	4. Part 4

Bruce paced back and forth in front of the cell that he'd prepped for just this contingency. How the hell had it come to this? What madness made him think that this was a good idea? He never should have brought him here. He could have dumped the clown on the steps of city hall for Gordon to handle or taken him straight to Arkham where he belonged. He could still do it. He should do it. Wash his hands of all of this madness. He stopped his endless circling and peered through the bars.

The Joker was still as death. It was eerie to see the man who had single-handed brought Gotham to its knees look so vulnerable. No longer, the painted jester but a young man with a family that had mourned him, a brother that had sought him and now held him captive. How could this ever end well?

Alfred was busy disinfecting the triage area and putting things away. He knew the man was hovering, just in case, he was needed. He appreciated it. "Am I making a mistake?"

His confidante stopped his rote cleaning, "I know how much family means to you."

"Even if my family is..." he motioned with his head towards the caged clown.

"There's a very old cliché that one can't choose family. It seems to me that this situation is the very definition of that axiom."

Bruce smiled and ran his hand through his hair. "How did you get to be so wise?"

Alfred gave him a look and scoffed lightly, "I'm British." The old man returned the smile, "I'll go up and see to the west wing. There are few more things that need to be done."

Bruce nodded and put his head down.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A slight rustling alerted him that his "guest" was awake. The ten by ten iron cage wasn't ideal but for now it would do. The preparations for more permanent accommodations upstairs were nearly ready but until he was absolutely satisfied that the suite was secure, his guest would remain where he was.

"Ouch." The Joker sat up working his lower jaw back and forth. He looked around his cell with mild interest. When he noticed the figure standing outside the bars, he stood unsteadily then wobbled over and peered through. "You know, I fully expected to wake up dead. This is a bit... disappointing."

Bruce studied him. He didn't seem to be perturbed by the situation at all, as if waking to find oneself caged in a large dark cavern was an everyday occurrence. He had yet to see anything really rattle the man. Except when his temper flared, the man seemed gleefully content. Or just plain deranged more like. He hadn't decided how much, how soon, he would tell the Joker about why he was really here. He'd just take it a day at a time.

"I'm not interested in being your executioner," he finally answered. That was neutral enough, wasn't it?

The Joker cocked his head, "Really? Since when? You seemed more than amiable last time we talked." The clown ran his hand over his head then sniffed at his palm, "Fresh. Did I get a bath too?"

"The situation has changed." That was the understatement of the century.

"Obviously." He looked down at his new clothing, running his hands over the expensive fabric. "But why I wonderrr," the Joker drawled.

"You want to die?" Bruce moved closer to the cage, curious to get inside the man's head and more than afraid at what he would find there.

"Don't carrrre either way. But I do want to know... what the hell I'm doing here." The Joker pressed his face between the bars, stretching his scars wide. His eyes narrowed, "Now, why oh why, would you want to bring little ol' me to your secret lair? What possible rrreason could you have? Do you enjoy my company that much or did you just want to get a good look?"

Bruce could see the gears turning in the man's head. A part of him wanted to throw open the cell door and pull him into an embrace, pretend that none of the horrors had ever happened, but a bigger part of him wanted to put a bullet between his eyes. "If you have any special requirements better let me know now."

"Am I going to be here that long?"

The Joker didn't miss much, he'd have to be careful. "We'll see."

"You want something from me. Something personal. But it's not part of my game is it." The Joker mock-gasped, "You've been playing a game of your own haven't you. Naughty." His eyes bored into him. "What could I possibly offerr you that would lea-duh you to break your code of conduct like this?" He strolled back and forth, pausing to peer between each bar.

"Isn't that what you wanted all along? To break me, bend my will.. make me like you."

"You _**are**_ like me. You've got it all wrong, if that's what you think. It's never been my intention to break you... not exactly. Only to make you see the truth..."

"I'll never see your truth." Bruce walked right up to the bars and met his brother's steely gaze. "But maybe I can help you see mine," he replied under his breath.

The Joker's tongue slid along his lips, "Now, _this_, should be fun."

"How did it go?"

Bruce shook his head, "As well as can be expected, I guess. He didn't even seem surprised by the situation." Bruce looked up to the ceiling and sighed, "He's a psychopath. There's no hope, is there, Alfred."

"I'm not a psychiatrist, Master Bruce. I can't say what's possible and what's not. But, for the moment, the situation is stable. He's contained and can't harm anyone. You can take a breath."

"I think I'm the one that needs the psychiatric help." Bruce fell into the nearest chair.

"I've been telling you that for years," Alfred snarked.

"Ha, ha." Bruce closed his eyes. He was so tired, so very tired. He didn't think he'd ever be able to rest again. His mind was a storm of rage and guilt. That madman had murdered Rachael. He'd destroyed Harvey. Just because they shared some blood didn't make them family. Gotham should be avenged. But who would avenge Jack?

"It couldn't hurt, you know." Alfred busied his hands. "You're going to have to tell the doctor everything, which includes who you are and what you do. I suspect he's going to want to have a chat or two with you as well. It might be the best thing, especially if you're serious about having some kind of relationship with the Joker."

"Other than loathing him, you mean."

Alfred expression was rueful, "If there was only loathing then we wouldn't be having this discussion in the first place. Have you decided when you're going to tell him?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin. He's curious as hell, of course. But it's just another game to him. That's probably all it will ever be."

"When is the doctor going to be here?"

"Three days." Bruce stretched until his back popped. "I'm just going to do it. Get it out of the way. It's the right thing." Who was he trying to convince? He so badly wanted some acknowledgment but the truth was, the only thing he would likely get from the Joker was a knife between the ribs. But he just wanted this so badly. He needed it.

"If you think it best."

"Best? I think we both know what would be best, Alfred." His eyes looked far away, into the past. Into a place where a little boy watched as his family died around him. Died because of him. "No more of the Wayne family dies."


	5. Part 5

Bruce walked slowly down the metal staircase to the lair. His steps echoed on the grating like gunshots. Never had his armor felt so heavy. It felt like he was walking to his own execution, which might not be far from the truth. What he was about to do was reckless and insane. The Joker was his enemy, plain and simple. Rationally, he knew that was unlikely to ever change but the heart wasn't rational.

"The prodigal bat has returned. Are we having fun yet?" a sing-song voice called out. The Joker stepped up to the cell door and waved.

No turning back now. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the cell. He pulled a small envelope from beneath his breastplate. This needed to be done, now, before the anxiety ate him alive. "Turn around and put your arms through the bars."

The Joker's eyes narrowed slightly, "And if I don't?"

"Then I'll use a tranq gun to sedate you and you'll still end up restrained. Strictly your choice." Bruce stood just out of reach of the cell bars. The Joker was unpredictable in the extreme. While there was nothing he could do at this point to really hurt him, his brother might hurt himself. Bruce saw no reason to doubt that he would do just that, if he thought it was to his benefit.

The Joker cocked his head seemingly measuring up the situation... and him. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Restraints? Kinky. All that black leather, I should have known." He turned and put his back to the bars, sliding his arms through, "Be gentle with me. I've never been with a bat before."

Bruce stepped up behind him and pressed handcuffs to each wrist in turn. Once in place, he gave the chain between an experimental little tug. The Joker was secure. Bruce unlocked the cell door and pulled a chair over. He pointed to it. "Sit. Please."

"Please? My, how polite." You weren't so polite the last time we had a heart to heart. In fact, you were having fun kicking my ass as I recall. At least, then, you didn't have me cuffed. Not very gallant of you..."

"Enough!" he took a deep breath. He couldn't lose focus. This was only the beginning. "There's something you need to see." Bruce opened the envelope.

The Joker shrugged and slid down into the offered chair. "Family photos? I may have to stab myself in the eye."

"You wanted to know why you're here. I'm telling you," his hands shook slightly. He couldn't show any weakness. Not now.

The Joker rolled his eyes.

"The baby in the photo isn't me. It's my brother." Bruce pulled out another photo, the only photo he had of the both of them together. "I was four, he was six months old." He held the picture up for the Joker to see.

"Bored now." the Joker's tongue made a pass across his lips, the marred flesh more evident without the warpaint to conceal the extent of the damage.

"When Jack was six months old, he became very ill. My parents took him to the hospital. Five hours later, they were told that he died of meningitis. But three years ago, I found out that he didn't really die. The doctor in the pediatric ward had a grudge against the Way.. our family. He held my father's company responsible for his wife's death. It wasn't true, of course, but he was mad with grief. He wanted my parents to feel the same pain."

"So he murdered the infant? How delicious." The Joker smacked his lips.

"No, not even he was that deranged. You see, my brother never had meningitis. He was switched with another infant that had just died. What exactly happened after that, I'll probably never know for sure, the doctor has since died. But I believe, he sold my brother on the blackmarket." He searched the Joker's face for any indication that he was aware of where this was leading.

The bound man yawned. "Do you plan on keeping me trussed up the rest of the night? Because.. this story.. is putting me to sleep."

"Ever since I found out he was alive, I've been searching. I might never have found him at all, except, he showed up here in Gotham and caught my attention. I don't know if it was coincidence or fate but he's here."

"How special for you both." The Joker arched his back, stretching. His neck made a popping sound as he leaned his head first to one side then the other.

"He doesn't know. I haven't told him, because, I don't think he'll appreciate having me as family. Frankly, I'm afraid of what his reaction will be."

The Joker laughed, "You know as well as I do what his reaction will be. He'll find out what you are, that you're a.. freeeak.. and he'll hate you. He'll fearrr you. Just like all the rest of the useless bags of skin do."

Bruce looked down at his hands. "He hates me all right. But not because I'm a freak." There was no use dragging it out any longer. "He doesn't fear me either. He wants me to know the truth, his truth, so I guess it's only fair I return the favor... and tell him my truth, _**our**_ truth."

The Joker locked eyes with him, his gaze challenging. Then he doubled over in hysterical laughter. "You think.. You think.." he barely spit out between peals of raucous sound. "I was wrong about you Bats, you DO have a sense of humor after all," he snorted.

Bruce nodded slowly, "You really think for one minute I would make such a declaration if I wasn't absolutely sure of the facts?" His voice rose, "Do you really think that I wanted to find out my greatest enemy, is actually my only family? Why? Why would I want to discover that a murdering psychopath is my brother? Do you have any idea what it's costing me?"

The Joker was silent. For once he seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I had a DNA analysis of your blood run. They confirmed..."

"Why?" The bound man leaned forward as far as the cuffs would allow.

It was a fair enough question. "An accident of fate."

"Bullshit. Ain't no such thing. Fate is just imposing your will on someone else."

"I was trying to ascertain your identity by using a computer program that would strip your warpaint and show me the face beneath. I used it to remove the scars and get a good look at you... before," Bruce motioned to his face, "Whatever happened to you. The resemblance to my... our uncle was pretty startling. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. But I wasn't about to just let something like that go. I got a sample and took it to the lab." He swallowed hard, "They were able to extract a match.. to mine. I had the test run four times at four different labs. There's no mistake, there's no conspiracy. There's no way to deny it. You're my biological brother."

The Joker tilted his head from one side to the other, studying him. He felt like a bug being cataloged... right before dissection. "I don't know what this is, what you think you're doing. But whatever it is, you should stop. It won't work with me."

"What won't work?" he'd just presented the facts. What could possibly be gained by such a devastating ruse?

The scarred man smiled viciously and it chilled him to the bone. The Joker leaned slowly forward until the cuffs snapped against the bars. His voice was low and deadly, "You want to playyy with me? Then let's.. dance.. Bats, slow and bloody."

"I'm not playing, Joker. It's the truth. That's why you're here instead of Arkham."

"Why? Why? Why? Hmm? Because you want us to play house? Is that what this is all about?" His broad grin returned, "Now I see. You want to put the.. the.. pieces of your broken family back together again. That is just too wretched for words. You're so alone that you would bring a monster like me into your life. Yet... you're still too dense to see it, aren't you?

"See what?" Well, he had wanted a view into the Joker's mindset and now it looked like he was about to get it.

"Oh now.. see now," the Joker scolded, "I told you before. You and I are one in the same. You couldn't kill me then and now you can't let me go. What does that tell you? Hmm?"

"You want truth?" Nothing less would serve now. He was about to open a wound that neither of them might ever heal from.

"Always. It's sssooo much funnier than anything I could make up."

"I don't know. I wanted you dead for what you'd done. Crazy or not you should pay. But.."

"But.. deep down in your dark, angsty, little soul, you know, uh huh, what I said was trrue." The Joker was practically jumping up and down in his chair. His barely contained energy like a living thing around them.

"No. I don't believe in your truth. But I do know that there is a connection between us. Call it family, call it what you like, but it's there."

The Joker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So what now, Bats?" His eyes were bright, too bright.

Bruce hesitated. This was the moment he had been dreading. Once this action was taken there would be no going back. The Joker would know his true identity, which meant that he could end him with a few words to the right people. But it was the only way. The man needed to know who he really was, where he had come from, his birthright. "You should know all of it."

Bruce stepped back and reached around the back of his headpiece. He slipped the clasps that held it in place.

"What do you think you're doing?" the caged man looked him up and down.

"Taking off the mask."

The Joker chuckled and shook his head. "Don't be an idiot. The mask is not the costume you wearrr," he explained, "It's the human face beneath it. I don't need to know what you call yourself when you're not Batman."

Bruce paused. Well, this was a twist he hadn't expected. Then again, nothing was ever as expected when you dealt with the Joker. Jack. He'd have to get used to calling him by his name. Jackson Montgomery Wayne. "You need to know who I am so that you can know who you really are."

"I know who I am. I'm the Joker." His eyes seemed to glow from within. "Nothing you say or do will ever change that."

He had to make him see, try to make him understand. "You weren't born the Joker. You were my brother. You _**are**_ my brother."

"So you keep saying," the Joker tsked.

Was he really that delusional? Past events certainly seemed to bear it out. "It is, what it is. Denying it won't change a thing. You need to know."

The Joker cocked his head, "Let me put this another way. I will use whatever is at my disposal against you. Including your identity. So if you really want to give me another weapon, then, go right ahead. Bare your face and your soul. I'll destroy you with it."

"Or maybe I'll save you with it instead," Bruce answered evenly.

The Joker chortled. "That's quite the messiah complex you've got there. Makes a lot of sense given your vocation. HA! But there must be something more to it. You can't be more than four in that picture, too young to remember much about losing a kid brother. So tell me, what happened, Bats?"

Bruce hesitated. The deadliest weapon in the Joker's arsenal wasn't explosives, it was his ability to seemingly see into peoples' souls and manipulate what he found there. Was he strong enough to face the Joker head-on if he held such destructive ammunition? He'd have to be, for both their sakes. Then again, maybe there was another way. One the Joker might understand.

"I'll tell you everything.. including who I am. What you choose to do with that information is up to you. But don't forget, you won't just be exposing me. You'll be exposing yourself as well. So if you want to go public with our identities... so be it."

A slow, vicious smile spread across the Joker's lips. "Touche. It's good to know that you're not quite so unbearably noble. Kidnapping, false imprisonment, and now blackmail with a little emotional manipulation as a cherry on top. It's a good start."

"I'd hardly call what I did kidnapping and false imprisonment since you'd be in Arkham right now anyway." That is, if he made it that far. There would be a lot of people on both sides of the bars that would like to get a shot at the Joker.

"I think the law might say otherwise. It's either false imprisonment or you're aiding and abetting.. which one will it be?" Joker bounced his leg up and down in rapid motion.

"It's justice," Bruce stated simply. His personal motivations be damned. The Joker was off the street and contained... that's what counted.

"It's justification. But no worr..rries Bats, day by day that slope only gets slipperier. All I have to do.. is wait." The Joker worked his wrists back and forth.

It was obvious that the restraints were beginning to chafe, Bruce noted. He'd clamped them down pretty tight. It was a very human reaction, one of the first that he'd seen from the man. "I shouldn't leave you cuffed so long. I just thought we should do this face to face. Nothing between us."

"Just my hands behind my back?" The Joker leaned his head back against the bars. "Safety first," he grinned.

Bruce approached the bound man, wary, even though he knew the Joker was completely harmless. But not to him, the Joker would never be harmless to him, not now. Steeling himself against the Joker's caustic response, he started, "When I was eight years old, I saw my... our... parents murdered. They were shot by a petty criminal during a robbery."

The Joker gave a long suffering sigh and replied evenly, "Really? You saw your parents killed when you were eight? Wow, and when I was eight, I murdered mine. Huh. What are the odds?"

The remark was made so casually, it took a moment for the words to register, "I don't appreciate you joking about.."

"Who the fuck said I was joking?" The Joker's tongue slid slowly across his bottom lip. "See this beautiful grin of mine was the last thing that my dearrr old dad gave me. But we were talking about _your_ pain weren't we.."

"I don't know what to say.." What could you say? Was it even true? If it was... he didn't want to think about the implications.

Joker tsked. "See, this is just too sad. To learn that something so mundane as your parents demise could birth such a delightful creation as the Bat is, well, anticlimactic. I'd frown but it's just too hard... logistically speaking," his grin widened.

"They were your parents too. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I never had parents. I sprang fully formed from the collective perversions of humanity," he replied sarcastically. "Wait a sec." The Joker stared hard at him, that penetrating gaze dissecting him. He cocked his head first one way then the other. "You left something out didn't you? There's more to your wretched little tale." His laugh was low and chilling, "Do tell."

There was that unnerving perception again. Bruce looked away. He wasn't willing to go that far. He wasn't suicidal. The Joker would use his guilt over that night to tear him apart. "That's it."

"No, it isn't."

"That's enough." He couldn't do this. It was too much. He'd made a mistake. His mind was in shambles.

"First, you talk about honesty and family. How we should be brothers. And now when things get tough, apparently the tough run away to cry for their mommy and daddy. Now how I am supposed to learn about what's good and right? I'm so disappointed in you."

Bruce's temper sharpened, "Don't you dare mock what happened to them!"

"Why not?" the scarred man looked genuinely curious. "You want me to share first, is that it? Take a good close look at my face and you'll understand how such a horrible accident could happen to such good people like my parents. Such a nasty fire and no way for them to get out," he clicked his tongue. "You think you know what pain is? Think again."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you.." And he was. Sorry, for him being stolen away, sorry for him not having the life that was intended, sorry for whatever tragedy had turned an innocent child into a horrific man.

The Joker's eyes went wide, "What did you just say to me?"

"That I'm sorry for.."

The Joker's voice dropped low and he hissed, "You say one more word and I will take your skin off.. in strips." Rage colored his features, "Don't you ever, EVER, pity me! It will be the last thing you ever do on this earth, I promise!" He pulled hard against the restraints.

Bruce leaned back, putting some extra distance between them. There was nothing amused in his tone now. That had struck a nerve. The Joker probably thought of his compassion as weakness. It was going to be like walking a minefield to get him to talk. "Did your father really do that to you? The story seems to change often."

The Joker's anger vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. His grin returned. "You want to think that some terrible event in my past created what I am now? You need to justify it? Like you justify what you've become?"

"You're the one that said it," Bruce reminded him.

The once clown paused and rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "Fact is, I just woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and saw who I really was.. inside. So I just made the outside match the inside. And it's a fine job if I do say so myself." The Joker let his head rest against the bars of his cage. He watched Bruce through half closed eyes. "Chaos doesn't need a reason, it simply happens."

He wasn't buying it. While the Joker could have had a hand in mutilating his own face, he certainly didn't do all the damage to his body. "I should let you stretch your legs for a while." Bruce repeated. Maybe this wasn't the right thing to do. He should have waited for the doctor's opinion.

"You started this, Bats. Aren't you going to finish it?" Joker's tongue slid around his lips. "Because if you don't, believe me, I willl."

Bruce stood and walked slowly in front of the bound clown. Was he making things worse? But he needed this, god help him, maybe more than the Joker. "We were a close family. I remember the weeks after your supposed death. Not the events so much as the feeling, the sorrow and loss. Then when my.. our.. parents died. I was alone." Bruce looked away from the Joker's keen gaze. "I was cared for by a friend of the family. And.." he didn't know where he wanted to go with the story. There was so much to tell and he didn't know how much of it he should divulge.

"And the poor little rich boy didn't know what to do with all the rage and pain so he decided to play out his revenge fantasies on the criminals of Gotham. That about right?" Joker smiled evilly.

He should have known the Joker would figure it out but he didn't think it would be this quickly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't insult me. You can think I'm a frrea..k and you can think I'm crazy.. but never think I'm stupid."

Bruce nodded, a small smile about his lips. "That's one thing, I've never thought."

"Ah, but you _have_ thought I'm a crazy freak?" The Joker laughed. "So tell me, Brucey, when you did you discover this interesting bit of family history?"

Bruce took a deep breath, no use in denying it. "About three years ago. I've been using my influence ever since to try and find you. But as it turned out you ended up finding me."

"Funny how things work out ain't it," Joker drawled.

"Hilarious."


End file.
